The Fastest Way
by liftedlorax
Summary: A perfect murder isn’t perfect when it’s committed by college kids.


**Title: **The Fastest Way  
**Author:** Allie  
**Pairing/Characters: **Ensemble (Hints of L/V, Dick/Mac, unrequited Piz/Veronica, and Logan/Parker)  
**Word Count: **2,651  
**Rating:** R  
**Summary:** A perfect murder isn't perfect when it's committed by college kids.

**Spoilers/Warnings: **Set in the beginning of their second year at Hearst, so up to 3.9. Also, minor character death.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any rights to Veronica Mars or the characters. Please don't sue me.

**A/N: **This switches point of views a lot, at least, this part does, at first, but it's pretty easy to follow, I think. Also, flashbacks are in italics, in case you don't pick up on that. And this has about 8 parts, I think, but I'm not sure yet. So, enjoy!

**Part One**

The table is cold on the underside of his wrist, and he pulls his sleeve up around it and tries not to play with the edges of it nervously. He's never been interrogated before, so he doesn't want to make a wrong move. He gulps slightly and looks up at the sheriff…Lamb. His name is Lamb. Piz seriously needs to remember that.

"I—I'm not sure why I'm here," he stutters out, and Sheriff Lamb sighs noisily and shoots him an impatient glare.

"You're here because someone was murdered, Mr. Piznarski, and you were placed at the scene." He looks Piz directly in the eye, and Piz shifts uncomfortably. "Tell me a bit about that night."

He shifts again and remembers.

_Coming here was a mistake. There are too many people, too much laughter, too much happiness. Right now, he'd like to crawl into a hole and die, but that's not really an option. And he doubts that would win him Veronica._

"It was just—just a party, you know? End of the summer party—my roommate told me he was going. I wasn't going to go at first, because I had plans, but then they…fell through."

_She needs to 'work things out'. What does that even mean? But Veronica Mars is a mystery he wishes he could figure out. It sucks, though, that she won't give him the chance. He'd spent the whole freaking summer trying to convince her, and for a while, he'd thought nothing was standing in his way. He can't believe how wrong he was. He was so wrong, in fact, that when Veronica asked to meet with him that night, he'd really thought that this was it—she was ready for him. But she wasn't ready, not at all—even though she'd been really nice about it when she let him down easy. He won't let himself be hopeful over that. _

"Tell me about the murder. Where were you when you heard the shot?" Lamb is tapping his pen against the table impatiently, as though Piz isn't answering his questions fast enough. Or maybe because it's not the answers he wants.

"I was outside the pool house, just—just talking to people, you know? And I heard the shot and everyone was running and screaming. I ran."

"Did you know the victim?"

He didn't, but Wallace did. "Sort of. Like, a friend of a friend of a friend." Well, not really. Casey Gant was a friend of Wallace's friend Logan, who is not, in any way, Piz's friend. Considering he's (presumably) the reason Piz isn't with Veronica right now, he's very far from being his friend.

_Screaming. Someone yelling for an ambulance—someone's been shot. Piz runs because he knows he has to; it's not just the fear, it's the idea that he needs to get the hell out of there. Now._

"You know," he drawls out slowly. "I'm pretty sure I have an airtight alibi for this one. Considering I was _in your custody _at the time."

Lamb glares at Logan, eyeing the way he's tilting his chair back on it's hind legs and sprawling his own legs comfortably in front of him. If he knew Logan better, he'd know that Logan's anything but comfortable—but grief on him is so familiar now, it might as well be a tattoo.

"Just give me a play-by-play of the whole night," Lamb spits out through gritted teeth. "You were friends with the victim, and you were there leading up to the murder. That's enough to question you. Surely you know how this works by now, Echolls."

_It's one last blowout at the Gant place before Casey jets off back to New York, and Logan feels like he's in high school again. He watches as Wallace talks to two, three different girls, and then glances back at the uncomfortable Mac. "Having fun?" he asks her, because he knows she's on some kind of mission to be social, normal. He thinks she should ask Veronica about that—cause normal worked out so well for her._

"_Yup!" she perks brightly, then knocks back what little alcohol is left in her cup, making him laugh as she sputters. He looks past Mac and notices her roommate, Parker, the other friend she'd come to the party with, talking and laughing and sparkling with Casey. He grins and points._

"_Your roommate definitely is," he muses, and Mac smiles softly, obviously happy for her._

"_Good. She deserves it. You know what last year was like for her." Logan does; through Wallace's insistence that he expand his social horizons further than sorority sluts he used to forget Veronica and frat boys dumber than hammers, he'd become friends with Parker, and Mac by default. The fact that they were close friends with Veronica had nothing to do with it—he'd made a point to stop making everything about her. The fact was, Parker and Mac were fun, and they were nice. Really, what else did he need?_

_Dick bounds over then, noticing Mac and Logan's identically bored faces and groaning. "Dudes," he slurs at them, already drunk. "This is a _party. _You know, fun? Classes start again in a week, guys. What happened to being social, Ghost World?"_

_Mac scowls at the nickname, but doesn't react to Dick as abrasively as she normally does. Logan decides that it's improvement, if gradual. "We don't all have to be toasted to have a good time, Dick."_

_Dick blinks confusedly, then grins and grabs her arm. "Says who?" He leads her off in the direction of the bar, and though she protests, she goes willingly, and Logan smiles inwardly. Definitely improvement. _

"We all wound up in Casey's pool house," Logan informs Lamb. "Playing poker."

"Who?" Lamb prods, and Logan rolls his eyes.

"Ringo, George, John, you know, the usual crowd."

"Do I have to book you again to get a straight answer, or will you just give it up on your own?"

"Awe, Lamby, I know you love those handcuffs, but any more and I won't be able to walk tomorrow."

"Look, kid, if you don't shut up and give me answers, you won't be able to walk for a week."

"Ooh, feisty."

"_I'm out," says Wallace, shooting a look at a giggly and red-faced Mac, who's sitting very close to an even more hammered Dick. "And Mac, I think you should get going, too. You're gonna feel like hell tomorrow."_

"_I'm good, Wally," she says, no longer sarcastically perky. Dick laughs and drops an arm around her shoulder, barely reacting when Mac sags against him, unable to sit upright anymore._

_Wallace glares at Logan. "I told you to watch her, man, and you let this jerk get her drunk?"_

_Logan shrugs casually. "She's a big girl, Wallace, and Dick's harmless. Besides, she wanted to have fun. Dick's fun."_

"_He sure is," Casey throws out, grinning from where he has an arm wrapped around Parker. Parker makes a face._

"_Case, I hope you realize how wrong that sounds," she tells him, and he smiles at her and shrugs._

"_Oh well."_

_Wallace stands, still glaring at Logan. "Come on, assclown. Help me get Mac to her car."_

_Logan stands up and salutes. "Aye aye, Captain. Gant, you behave. You make a bad move on Parker, and I break your arm. And Dick—try not to asphyxiate on your own vomit while I'm gone, okay?"_

"_Huh?" Dick asks dazedly, and Logan rolls his eyes and puts a hand under Mac's arm as he and Wallace lead her out._

"So you and Echolls left with Mackenzie, right?" Lamb asks, and Wallace nods. "That leaves Parker Lee and Dick Casablancas in the room with Gant. Correct?"

"Got it in one," Wallace says. "And I think you know what happens next."

"_What the fuck?" Logan shouts, letting go of Mac's arm so that she slumps against Wallace and charging towards the cop that's attaching his Range Rover to a tow truck. "What the fuck are you doing?"_

"_There are four outstanding tickets on this vehicle," the cop answers, smirking smugly at the enraged Logan. "You need to learn to drive more responsibly, Mr. Echolls."_

_Wallace knows what Logan's going to do about seconds before he does it. He considers trying to stop it, but decides it's useless when the taller boy throws the punch almost immediately. He sighs tiredly as Logan is shoved up against his car and cuffed. _

"_Look, man," he tells Logan as he gets shoved into the squad car. "I'm gonna get her home and then I'll come by the station." _

_Logan grins. "Don't worry. They like me down there. They'll probably have a welcome home sign and a cake waiting for me."_

_Wallace rolls his eyes as he shifts Mac away. "Save me a piece."_

"Other witnesses say you spent a lot of the night with Dick Casablancas," Lamb says. "What can you tell me about his state of mind? Was he depressed, angry, violent?"

Mac glares at Lamb. "He was drunk. And I barely hung out with him, we just got some drinks together. I wouldn't call that spending the night."

"_Yo, Casablancas!" Sean makes his way through the crowd to where Dick and Mac are leaning against the bar. He leers down at Mac. "Who's the fresh meat?"_

_Mac rolls her eyes as Sean leans closer to her. She smells booze and weed on his breath and sighs. Deciding to dump her drink down his shirt isn't hard at all._

"_Hey, you bitch!" Sean shouts, grabbing her arm and leaning even closer. "What's your problem?"_

_Sean is hauled away by a scowling Dick. "That's your cue to beat it, man," Dick snarls. "Look, there are wasted freshmen to go take advantage of over there. Have fun."_

_He lopes away, and Mac looks at Dick. "I hope you don't expect me to thank you," she says, and he shrugs and grins._

"_It'd be nice."_

"_Forget it."_

"_Forgotten."_

"To your knowledge, was Casablancas carrying a firearm?"

Mac glares harder. "To my knowledge, no. Did _you _find a firearm on him?"

Lamb shakes his head. "We found the gun a few blocks away in a dumpster, cleaned and unregistered. What about Parker Lee? Was she armed? Do you know if she owns a gun?"

"Jesus, no, okay? God, we're 19-year-old kids, we don't shoot people for fun! And neither Parker nor Dick would have any reason to kill Casey." Mac shakes her head at Lamb. "You're wasting your time with this. Seriously, are you even interested in finding the murderer at all?"

"We just want all our information together, Cindy."

"It's Mac, asshole."

"_Are you okay?" Casey asks softly. From above her, he's even more good-looking: the lights from the ceiling are combining with the alcohol in her system to make him seem almost glowing._

_Parker nods slowly, even as her insides tighten with fear and anxiety. She really is lucky; just the fact that any guy would be interested in her now—she of the antisocial, closed-off and damaged. Piz had already proven that, after his embarrassing rejection towards the end of her second semester at Hearst._

_He kisses her slow, sweet and deep, and she feels it all the way down to her toes. But there's something about the bed pressing into her back and his elbows pressing into her ribs that's making her stomach curl. She tries to push it aside and ignore it, but it's there, throbbing and aching and she can't stand it. With a gasp, she breaks off the kiss and pushes at him, eyes shining apologetically but also desperate._

"_I'm sorry, I can't." He's asking her questions but she's racing out of the pool house, breathing hard and deep and closing her eyes against the embarrassment._

_Her eyes shoot open when she hears the gunshot._

"I wasn't in there with him," Parker repeats slowly, because it seems like the sheriff isn't quite getting it.

"According to witnesses, you and Dick Casablancas were—"

"Dick left," Parker tells him. "And then I did. Casey was alone in there when he was—when he was shot."

Lamb sighs, running a hand over his face. "Where did you go?"

"I—I was just outside the pool house."

"Ballistics said that whoever shot Gant was doing so from a distance, probably from the door. Are you telling me that you didn't see anything?"

"I didn't. I was just—I needed some air, I was going to go back in, but then I heard the shot, and—"

_Screaming. People are running, tripping over themselves, and they want to get away. Parker doesn't scream. Parker lets out a sob and instead of running away, she runs towards the pool house. She smacks into someone she vaguely recognizes, before running into people she doesn't, and then she's there—and Casey's lying on the floor, blood pooling around his body, staring up at her with lifeless eyes._

_She screams then. "Call an ambulance—someone's been shot!"_

"Did Casey try to take advantage of you? Did you feel you needed to protect yourself?"

Parker glares at Lamb, more for his insensitivity than his accusation. "No, he didn't. I told you, I just needed air—I didn't need to 'protect myself.'" She pauses, looking down at the table, before glancing up again. "I didn't kill him."

Lamb doesn't believe her. Of course he doesn't. "Okay, Miss Lee. I think that's all."

"_Oh, Dick," she coos. "You're so strong. And look at that hair. I want you right here."_

"_Anytime, baby," Dick drawls, leaning back against the lounge chair as she presses herself against his chest. "Anytime."_

_BANG._

"That's what you remember?" Lamb asks, eyes narrow and voice disdainfully incredulous. "That's your alibi?"

Dick leans back in his chair and swallows hard, looking at the sheriff nervously. It sounds like he's a suspect, but that makes no fucking sense at all—Casey was one his oldest friends. Why the fuck would he kill him?

"Yeah, that's it, man," he answers honestly. "'Course, I was a bit wasted, so it might be a little—fuzzy, but that's it."

"Fuzzy," Lamb repeats, shaking his head. "Mr. Casablancas, your friend was murdered, shot in the back, killed instantly, and your alibi is that you were 'hooking up with a mad fine chick next to the pool when you heard the shot go bang'?"

"Yup," he says, and he doesn't quite understand why Lamb doesn't get it. It's the truth. Maybe the sheriff's having a slow day. He had one yesterday; Dick knows how they can suck.

"Okay," Lamb says. "Okay."

"Okay," Dick repeats, and really, he's not _trying _to piss the guy off, like Logan does, but he seems to be doing a good job of it. Lamb looks furious. "Dude, can I go now?"

"No."

"Why not? You're just repeating everything I'm saying and asking me if I'm sure."

"I'm not done questioning you."

"I haven't heard any questions lately."

"Do you know the name of the girl you were with?"

Dick thinks about it. He really does. "Um…nope. It might've began with a C, though. Maybe."

Lamb sighs noisily. "Description?"

"Blonde? Maybe blonde. I don't remember, really. Look, do I need a lawyer?"

Lamb sighs. Again. "No, not now. But you might soon. You know what, I think we're done for now. Go home. But we'll be in touch. And if you remember anything, don't hesitate to contact us."

"Right on," Dick says, standing up and grinning. "See you later, Sheriff."

"Leave."

"Got it."

Sheriff Lamb lets out one last sigh as the blonde exits, running a hand through his hair. "Sacks," he calls wearily. "Get me coffee. _Now._" It seems impossible now, but Lamb knows better. A perfect murder isn't perfect when it's committed by college kids. There's a mistake somewhere, and someone saw something, and he's going to find out where, who, and what.


End file.
